The plot! The plot! What kind of plot could a poet possibly provide that is not surpassed by the thinking, feeling reader? Form alone is divine.
Franz GrillparzerMan lives two lives, woe, were it otherwise! One is seized by death, the other one, his honor, remains.
Franz GrillparzerGratitude is a fickle thing, indeed. A person taking aim presses the weapon to his chest and cheek, but when he hits, he discardsit with indifference.
Franz Grillparzer